Mind of an Outlaw by Norman Mailer Read Free Book Online Page B

living room and indeed in other places as well. For what are obscenities finally but our poor debased gutturals for the magical parts of the human body, and so they are basic communication, for they awake, no matter how uneasily, many of the questions, riddles, aches, and pleasures which surround the enigma of life.
    No, I will not be able to use obscenities—what a pity!—because a little social fact which is too often forgotten is that obscene language, which is used at least once in a while by 95 percent of the people living in this country, would forbid the passage of this newspaper through the mails. And there are other restrictions, stories I cannot tell about unpleasant people in the daily news, people who are pusillanimous, or archly vicious, or hypocritical, or worse, or simply no good, stories I cannot tell because this paper would be sued for libel. (Ah, well, perhaps we will find a way yet.)
    So these restrictions and all others sadden me, because I would like to express myself properly, and the true communication of soul to soul is speeded on its way, as every soldier and ex-soldier knows, by the foul language God gave our tongues, along with everything else He gave us including malicious stories, women, society, pain, pleasure, lights and darks, and all the other mysterious dualities of our mysterious universe.
    Therefore, brethren, let me close this sermon by asking the grace for us to be aware, if only once in a while, that beyond the mechanical communication of all of society’s obvious and subtle networks, there remains the sense of life, the sense of creative spirit (we are all creative if it is for no less than to create new life itself), and therefore the sense no matter how dimly felt of some expanding and not necessarily ignoble human growth.
    With this worthy homilectic come to a close, I promise next week to offer some diversion. Perhaps even some dialogue. If I say so myself, I am rather good at that.

Nomination of Ernest Hemingway for President: Part I

(1956)
    UNTIL NOW , I believe I have been fairly regular about covering some facet of what I promised to deliver the week before. This once, however, I would like to beg my readers’ all-but-nonexistent indulgence and postpone the fateful nomination of Democratic candidate until next week.
    There are various reasons for this, but the most direct is the news-box which appeared on page 1 of the
Voice
last week. It went:
    Who’s Norman Mailer’s candidate for president? Those readers who turn to page 5 and read “Quickly” slowly, might find some clue. In any case there’s a $10 prize for the first correct solution received at this office. (His choice, by the way, is in a sealed envelope pasted on to the center of the Village Voice window. You can see it there from the street.)
    Now this was a trifle misleading, since there were no portentous clues in last week’s column. I had said to the gentleman who wrote the news-box that there might be a few hints in all my columnstaken together, but this was unfortunately garbled a bit in transmission. So, as an apology for neglecting to look at the news box in galleys, I will double the ante to $20, and give a few more pointed suggestions.
    The greatest clues of course are buried in those parts of my character which have been revealed week by week. What it comes down to is who, by God, would that megalomaniac Mailer nominate besides himself? And of course the wise man—if there is one among you—would answer: “Why, even a bigger megalomaniac.”
    Clue #2 . Last week I had a line in answer to Dr. Y. which went: “Sleep is wisdom for gladiators like yourself.” So your columnist demonstrated indirectly that in his cold bitter soul, he has respect for gladiators who are on their feet. Therefore, Candidate X must fulfill this condition as well.
    Clue #3 . Candidate X would approve of slow readers.
    Clue #4 . Candidate X must of course be Hip, and yet not display himself unduly as a hipster. Perhaps